Salazar's Army
by RaeLovegood
Summary: With Voldemort gone after his loyal Death Eaters failed to resurrect him during the Triwizard Tournament, the students of Hogwarts believe their troubles are over. But when the Ministry puts Dolores Umbridge in place as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, Hermione realizes that something has to be done-the question is, who will stand with her?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.

 **A/N:** This is officially my first fanfiction! Please note that this story is VERY loosely based off of Canon. I use some similar scenes (and obviously characters, settings, etc.), but know that I am not sticking to the story (it's Dramione, I mean...), or, for that matter, the scenes. Also, I appreciate reviews or questions, but I will not hesitate to delete any rude reviews. I am planning on posting one (or two, if I'm feeling generous) new chapters a week, but updating might get a little sporadic, seeing as I'm going away for a couple weeks. I'll let you guys know if anything changes. Also, if you're in need of something short and hilarious, I just read the greatest little Dramione One-Shot, _One Thousand Points to Gryffindor_ , by Glalie773.

Enough from me, though! Without further ado, I present to you, Salazar's Army.

Rae

* * *

 **Chapter One: The New Professor**

* * *

"Who do you think'll be the next nutter we get for Defense?" Ron mused as he reached across Harry to grab a piece of toast.

"Someone from the Ministry, probably, after what happened last year." Harry suggested, and Hermione shrugged. It was Monday, the first day of classes for the year, and no one had seen or heard anything from the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher.

"Preferably someone who isn't a complete idiot, possessed by Voldemort-for Godric's sake, Ron, he's dead-or a convict who tries to murder Harry." She said, remembering last year's teacher, who had put her friend's name in the Goblet of Fire in order to resurrect the Dark Lord-who, thank Merlin, stayed dead.

"Ugh, and we've got Defense with Slytherins again." Harry grumbled, and Ron groaned around a mouthful of biscuit.

"Dumbledore will never stop trying to 'repair the strife between the two houses', as he puts it," Hermione sighed. "Even now that Death Eaters are disbanding and Voldemort's gone, there's still centuries of grudge between the houses."

"When do we have Defense?" Ron asked, rummaging through his bag for his schedule, and returning to his breakfast when he couldn't find it.

"Right after lunch, I think." Harry said, glancing at Hermione for affirmation, who nodded, rolling her eyes.

"I still maintain that without me, you two would be in perpetual detention for all the classes you'd have missed." She grinned when Harry and Ron both turned to her defensively.

"We would not have-"

"McGonagall loves us too much-"

"Loves _me_ too much-"

"Ridiculous-"

"What do you take us for-"

"Bloody idiots?" The two asked simultaneously. Hermione shrugged, smiling slightly.

"All I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to look at your schedule before the first day of school." Before Harry and Ron could start off again, she looked up at the Head Table. "I don't see anyone new up there," she murmured, and both boys glanced up as well.

"No one was up there last night, either." Harry said, as Parvati Patil leaned towards them from across the table.

"I heard that the professor is Snape's great-aunt who just moved from Bulgaria." She said, glancing up at the Head Table and lowering her voice as if the ill-tempered Potions professor might overhear her.

Hermione scoffed. "Why would Dumbledore hire Snape's great-aunt?"

Parvati shot her a dirty look, muttering, "I guess we'll just have to see."

* * *

Parvati, it turned out, was wrong.

According to Fred and George, who'd had Defense right before lunch, Professor Umbridge was short, wore too much pink, and was

"... full of bloody rubbish." George complained, piling his plate with food as Fred shook his head.

"What's so bad about her?" Neville wondered.

"She's from the Ministry, mate. I think that just about sums everything up." Fred said. Some of his fellow sixth years emphatically nodded their agreement, and the table resumed its usual chatter, the fifth years still slightly on edge.

The students were soon dismissed from lunch, and as Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked to Umbridge's classroom, they speculated on what could make their new professor so terrible.

Ron was hopeful. "There's no way she can be as bad as Lockhart, can she? I mean, if she's from the Ministry then maybe she'll actually know something about Defense."

"Hopefully," Harry agreed.

"Lockhart was so bad, I don't think it's very hard to beat him." Hermione laughed, and the three stepped inside the classroom.

The first thing that Hermione noticed was the blackboard at the front of the room. On it was written:

 _Defense Against the Dark Arts_

 _A Return to Basic Principles_

She snorted. Class hadn't even started yet, and she was already beginning to see what Fred and George had meant by 'she's from the Ministry'. Taking a seat next to Harry and Ron in the second row, she set her bag down next to her and made to pull out her wand, but was stopped as the bell rang and Professor Umbridge arrived.

"Good afternoon, class!" A sickly sweet voice cried, and a short, toad-like woman stepped out from behind the blackboard. Her wide smile was like a frog about to catch the biggest fly on the pond.

No one said anything, and the woman-Professor Umbridge-frowned. "Tut, tut. Now, that won't do, will it? _Good afternoon, class_!" She repeated, then gestured towards the group of fifth years like a preschool teacher.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge." The class grumbled. Hermione kept her mouth shut. Professor Umbridge's smile righted itself, as her eyes fell upon the students.

"Very good, class. That wasn't too hard, was it? From now on, I would like you to answer me when I ask you a question. Take out your materials, please!" Everyone began to take out their wands, but their professor held up a stubby hand, her nails painted a nauseating shade of pink to match the rest of her outfit. "Ah, ah. You won't be needing your wands in this class, only your books, parchment and quills!"

The fifth years, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, exchanged gloomy looks as they rummaged in their bags.

"Now, I believe your previous… instruction, if one could call it that, has been, quite frankly, below Ministry standards. I am sure that, what with the constant changing of teachers, you students have very little to no knowledge of proper Defense Against the Dark Arts. Which is why I am here. To correct the information you have been given, and to reteach this subject, with a formal, Ministry-approved curriculum. Now, class, please copy down the following." The woman tapped the blackboard next to her, and a new message formed below the first one. None of the students said anything, but it wasn't hard to tell what they all thought of their new Defense professor. Hermione glanced up at the board, and, seething, dipped her quill into the ink and begrudgingly began to write.

 _Course aims:_

 _1\. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic._

 _2\. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used._

 _3\. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._

Once the scratching of quills stopped, Umbridge smiled sweetly at the class. "Does everyone have a copy of William Slinkhard's _Defensive Magical Theory_?" The students nodded, and began to pull out their books. "Hem, hem. I thought I told you at the beginning of class to answer me when I ask you a question. Let's try again, shall we? Does everyone have a copy of William Slinkhard's _Defensive Magical Theory_?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge." The class said in unison.

"Good. Now open your books to page five, and read the first chapter, please. There will be no need for conversation, so I am giving detention if I hear a word out of anyone in this classroom." Her thin lips stretched into an even wider smile, and she surveyed the class before moving to sit behind her desk, hands folded in front of her.

Ron and Harry both opened their books and began to read, although Ron was absentmindedly doodling on a spare piece of parchment, and Harry seemed to be reading the same line over and over again. Hermione, however, refused to open her book. Defense Against the Dark Arts was supposed to be about learning how to defend yourself by using the spells in a classroom environment in order to be able to use them in a non-classroom environment. Not reading about the different methods of casting a spell, from a man who had obviously never fought face-to-face with another witch or wizard. She raised her hand to tell Professor Umbridge as much, and was given incredulous looks by the rest of the classroom. Some of the Slytherins snickered quietly behind their hands.

She was, of course, known as the know-it-all amongst the fifth years of Hogwarts.

And she hated it.

The sole reason she had earned that nickname (among other, cruder ones), was because she was smart-and knew it-and felt the need to prove herself, as a Muggle-born, to the rest of the wizarding community. She knew she could be annoying at times, but wasn't everyone? Harry and Ron (the latter more so) depended on her for homework answers they didn't know, and for their own personal Self-Spelling Quill.

She had grown accustomed to it, and still loved her friends, but had resolved that this year would be different.

Apparently not, based on the looks she was currently being given by the rest of her classmates, and Professor Umbridge.

"Did you have a question about the first chapter, Miss…?" The professor asked, rising from her desk to peer at Hermione.

"Granger. And I did have a question, just not about the book."

"Well, Miss Granger, we are reading right now, so if you possibly keep your hand on your desk until the end of class, I would be more than happy to answer any questions you have once the bell rings." She sat back down, ignoring the whispers rippling through the classroom.

"Professor…" Hermione began, but Umbridge fixed her with a glare.

"Do not speak out of turn, Miss Granger!" Hermione raised her hand. Umbridge looked at her as if she was barely concealing an eye-roll. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read the first chapter, Professor."

"Then read the second, Miss Granger. Surely you were taught to count?" The Slytherins, and even a couple Gryffindors, could not conceal their mirth, until their professor turned to them, glaring. The students hastily looked back down at their books, some covering their mouths with their hands.

"I've read the entire book, Professor." Umbridge's shock registered for a second, her face reddening, before she covered it.

"Well then, you can sit quietly and think about the information you gained from reading this book until the end of class."

Before Umbridge could say anything, Hermione plowed on. "I've actually got a question about your course aims."

"I believe they are very clear, if you actually read them." Umbridge sneered.

"Well, that's just it, Professor. I understand them perfectly, but they don't seem to fit the Defense Against the Dark Arts course. Perhaps if Hogwarts offered a Defense Theory class, the course aims would fit, but this class is supposed to be about using spells, not reading about them." Hermione said testily.

"I don't need a fifteen-year old to tell me how to run my class, Miss Granger. Besides, I can't imagine any situation arising in which you would need to defend yourselves, in or out of school." Umbridge smiled placidly, as if that was the end. Hermione thrust her hand in the air once more, but Umbridge ignored her.

"Professor, I think-" Hermione began, but Umbridge saw another hand at the back of the classroom, her eyes brightening.

"Was there something you wished to say, Mister Malfoy?" The professor asked, her voice sweet and coddling. Hermione could have rolled her eyes. Of course, Malfoy would have something to say.

"Professor, no matter how much it pains me to say so, Granger is right. Even though Voldemort is gone, there are still dangerous people out there, Death Eaters who wish to continue His mission." He said, and Hermione could have sworn most everyone in the class' jaws hit the floor, including Umbridge's. Draco smirked. "Don't get me wrong, Granger, you're still an annoying little swot, but just because I have a personal objection to you doesn't mean you're always wrong."

"Well, Mister Malfoy-" Umbridge began, a look of consternation on her pouchy face.

"Isn't the point of this class to learn how to defend ourselves? I mean, what if we're in a dangerous situation, memorizing this bloody picture book line for line won't do much to help us, will it?" Harry asked. "No matter how much the Ministry likes to pretend that there's not still danger out there-"

" _Hand_ , Mister Potter!" Umbridge cried, but it was no use. The class had already erupted into chaos. By the time the professor managed to quiet everyone, there was no way anyone was going to be able to read anything, let alone chapter one of _Defensive Magical Theory_ , which Hermione had found, was about as informative as _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

"We've had a perfectly fine education the past four years, I don't see why it should stop now, especially after all that's happened." Ron muttered, once the class finally calmed down.

"I will not allow fifth years to insult the Ministry or me, or to lie to their classmates about the safety of this school!" Umbridge screeched, her face turning a violent shade of maroon. "Detention, Potter, Granger, Weasley, and Malfoy!"

"But, Professor…" Malfoy said, no doubt about to use his father's status at the Ministry and friendship with Umbridge to get out of detention.

"No excuses, Malfoy! I will see the four of you in my office at five o'clock tonight." She said, her voice gleeful. Just then, the bell rang, and the students could not get out of the classroom quick enough.

"Bloody Ministry." Ron muttered.

"This is ridiculous," Harry agreed. " _And_ we've got Divination next!"

* * *

Staring morosely into his cup of tea leaves, Ron sighed. "I don't see a thing."

"Me neither, mate." Harry said, looking over at his book again.

"Hold on, I see something! It's, wait…" Ron turned his cup around and around before looking up and grinning, "a lump of tea leaves! What does that mean, Harry?"

"I dunno, I reckon that means you'll be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something." Harry said, pretending to study the list of shapes and their meanings and grinning. He didn't see Professor Trelawny come up behind him until it was too late, although Ron was wildly trying to alert him.

"Harry Potter… The Boy Who Lived. Very interesting. You wouldn't happen to mind if I looked in your teacup for a moment, would you?" She asked, her voice serene and eyes wide behind enormous spectacles that only widened her eyes to disproportionate dimensions. Harry handed over his teacup all too willingly, and she inspected it carefully. Ron rolled his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking, and imitated Trelawny, widening his eyes and peering with consternation into his cup. He stopped immediately when the Divination professor looked up at Harry, tears in her eyes. "My dear boy, I am so very sorry. I see… I see a large, black dog. A Grim, dear." She pressed her lips together and patted his head in what she probably thought was reassuring. "We all must die sometime."

The rest of the class had turned to look at Harry, some stifling laughter, others giving him pitying looks (whether because of Trelawney's attention, or because of her prediction, he couldn't tell). Before he had a chance to respond, Professor Trelawny simply glided away, serene as ever.

While Harry knew her prediction was bullshite, Ron seemed a little shaken up. "Mate, what if she was right?"

"Oh, c'mon Ron. Even if she did see a big black dog, it was probably just Snuffles. I thought you didn't buy into that rubbish."

"Yeah. Sorry, mate."

"It's fine." Harry said, and leaned back in his chair, wishing the class was over. "Remind me again why we signed up for this class?" He groaned, realizing Hermione had been right. He'd much rather be in Arithmancy with her right now, than in this class with creepy Professor Trelawny.

"Probably just to try and prove 'Mione wrong. Or to spite her. Or because we didn't want to take Arithmancy." Ron offered.

"Yeah, probably."

* * *

Hermione sat down in the Arithmancy classroom, ready to clear her head of Professor Umbridge, at least until detention that night. She laughed to herself as the bell rang and Professor Vector stepped to the front of the class, knowing Harry and Ron were probably already regretting their decision to take Divination.

"Alright, class. Please take out your quills and parchment, and get ready to take notes. Today, we'll be reviewing the basics of Arithmancy before we get into more in-depth equations. There's extra parchment at the front of the classroom for anyone who needs it." The professor paused while a few students grabbed extra parchment, running a hand through her short, spiky black hair. "Ready? Great. Now, for those of you who don't know, the letters of the alphabet are each given a number from one to nine in Arithmancy. I want you all to copy down this diagram, which is an easy way to remember which number belongs to each letter…" Hermione let Professor Vector's words wash over her as she busily took notes and copied down the diagrams that the professor drew on the blackboard. While she despised Divination with a passion, Arithmancy made sense. It was still about making predictions, but the predictions were based in fact and math, and could be proved. Plus, Arithmancy was always a good way to clear her head, something she often found herself in need of. For awhile, she let herself forget about her previous frustration, and sunk into Vector's words and diagrams and logic.

All too soon, the bell rang, and Hermione headed off to Care of Magical Creatures, reminded again of her impending detention and the fact that she would have to spend the rest of the year with an incompetent, prejudiced, _Ministry-approved_ Defense teacher.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.

 **A/N:** So I'm feeling generous this week, and decided to post a second chapter. This probably won't happen very often (unless I write A LOT, I'm currently writing Chapter Six), but I couldn't resist. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to post a review or PM me and ask.

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Detention**

* * *

Hermione met up with Harry and Ron after Arithmancy to walk out to Care of Magical Creatures. "Well?" She asked, smirking. "How was Divination?"

"Absolutely lovely, thank you for asking." Ron said sarcastically, and Hermione grinned triumphantly. But before she was able to say more, Hagrid intercepted them, grinning, and pulled the trio into a bone-crushing hug.

"Harry, Hermione, Ron. How've ye been? Ye'll have ter come over fer tea and rock cakes some time to catch up. I'd love ter talk right now, but I've got a class ter teach!" He smiled, patted them on the backs (which, from Hagrid, was more like a forceful shove), and sent them to go stand with the other fifth years. The houses mostly stayed separate, although Dumbledore had encouraged them to 'mingle'. Hagrid approached, and the students fell silent.

"Alrigh', fifth years, quiet down now. Fer today, ye'll be learning 'bout bowtruckles. Nice lil' things, but if ye get too close to 'em, they'll take an eye or two, so be careful, mind you." Hagrid gestured towards the table in front of him, which was covered in small, twig-like creatures. "Can anyone tell me where ye could find a bowtruckle?" He asked, and Hermione raised her hand. Just because she was sick of being called a know-it-all didn't mean she wasn't going to answer a question if she knew the answer. Hagrid smiled. "Hermione?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, a familiar voice drawled, "On the table, of course." The Slytherins hooted with laughter, but Hermione and Hagrid both ignored them, although the latter looked a little forlorn.

"In wand trees, sir. They are a sort of tree guardian." Hermione answered, and Hagrid nodded.

"Good. Now, I reckon ye'll want a first-hand experience with 'em, so careful now, split into groups and take a look, gather 'round the table. C'mon, they don't bite. Only poke." Hagrid said sincerely, not noticing the worried or amused looks that were being exchanged among some of the students. He pulled out a bag of what looked like uncooked rice, and sprinkled it on the table. The bowtruckles surged towards the food, and some students gave an involuntary jump back at the sudden movement.

They were all gathered cautiously around the table, wondering what exactly they should be doing, when Hagrid held out a hand towards the table, and two bowtruckles clambered onto the palm of his hand. "See now, it's not so hard, is it? If ye want, ye can pick one up, jus' don't let it crawl up yer arm." Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a few other Gryffindors picked up a bowtruckle, out of fondness for Hagrid, if nothing else. Pansy Parkinson picked one up by it's twiggy body with two fingers, as if she was hoping to get poked, just to get Hagrid in trouble.

Thankfully, by the end of class, no one had gotten injured or maimed in any way, which, for Hagrid's class, was an accomplishment.

* * *

Before dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached Professor Umbridge's office warily, as if the door might burst open to reveal a furious Umbridge, some terrible punishment in hand.

Harry knocked, and their professor's saccharine voice rang out from inside. "Come in, come in!"

The three entered the decidedly _pink_ office where Umbridge and Draco already sat, trying their best to hold back grimaces at the moving pictures of kittens adorning every surface as they made their way towards the professor. Kittens at the beach, kittens getting married, kittens playing with a ball of yarn, kittens dressed up in bonnets and frilly dresses, and kittens simply glaring at the photographer (and therefore the viewer). The room itself could have been a detention.

"I'm so glad you could make it," simpered Umbridge, as if they were there for a tea party, not a detention. "You four will be copying lines for me today. Hopefully they will help… carve in the message, hmm?" They all sat down at the desks that had been aligned against one wall, with the window to their backs. They pulled out parchment, and made to pull out quills, but Umbridge stopped them. "Oh, no. You will be using some of _my_ quills for this activity. They require no ink."

She distributed the quills, which looked like ordinary quills, although Hermione looked it over queerly, and then sat back down at her desk. "The reason you are in detention is because you made false statements regarding the safety of your classmates and this school, as well as insulted the Ministry of Magic. Thus, accordingly, I would like you to write _I must not tell lies_."

"How many times, Professor?" Hermione asked, her patience wearing thin quickly.

"Well… As many times as the message takes to sink in, I would say. I will let you know when I think you are done for today." Umbridge smiled stickily at the four, who picked up their quills and began writing, thankful they only had to write lines.

As Hermione began to write, she felt a sort of itching sensation on the back of her hand. Assuming it was a fly or something, she brushed it off, and continued. _I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies._

Suddenly, the itching flared into a burning feeling across her hand. Judging by the hisses of the others, they were having the same issues. It was the quill. She knew she had sensed something off about it, but had shrugged it away, assuming it was just Umbridge.

Glancing over at her now-red hand, she saw that the letters she was writing were forming on her hand. Barely containing a hiss, she set the quill down, biting her tongue to keep from voicing her pain. Right there, inscribed on her right hand, were the words _I must not tell lies_ , in her own handwriting. Hermione let out a slow breath. _A Black Quill_. This twisted woman was making them use Black Quills, a form of torture. And for what? For telling the truth, a truth that the Ministry was trying very hard to conceal. From now on, they'd need to be careful. Hermione knew that she, for one, did not want detention with Umbridge again.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Umbridge came over to Hermione's desk, and bent down so their faces were level. Hermione realized she'd stopped writing, and looked up at Umbridge calmly.

"No, Professor."  
"Then may I ask why you have stopped writing?" Umbridge asked sweetly. Hermione hesitated. She would not let the woman know that she'd gotten to her, so she only smiled in response.

"I feel that I understand the message now, Professor." _But that doesn't mean I agree with it_ , she added silently.

"Very well. You are all dismissed. But if I hear you lying again, know that I will not hesitate to put you in detention again." She explained.

They could not get out of her office fast enough.

The four began the walk to the Great Hall in silence, Draco walking on the other side of the hallway. Once they were out of earshot, Hermione turned to Harry and Ron furiously.

"Can you believe it? That sick, miserable, bloody twisted woman was using a torture device!" She hissed. "I don't know how Dumbledore could have let her in."

"Probably wasn't Dumbledore who gave her the job. Bloody Ministry just lets themselves in wherever they think they belong. Which, mind you, isn't here." Harry muttered, clutching the back of his hand.

"I'll make some Murtlap Essence for that." Hermione gestured towards Harry's hand. "Hopefully it won't scar."

"Thanks, 'Mione." Harry said, and Ron nodded his agreement.

"Should we tell Dumbledore about the Black Quill?" Ron wondered. "Or the fact that we won't be using magic in class?"

Draco, overhearing the conversation, took the chance to comment. "Even if you do, the old coot will probably just say to stay out of detention, or to make the most of her 'unique teaching style.'" Harry and Ron looked offended, but Hermione had to agree. Dumbledore had been getting on her nerves lately.

"That's true," she murmured. Draco looked surprised for a second before covering his shock with his usual sneer. "But there's got to be something we can do about it."

* * *

Hermione woke with a start.

 _Of course_ , she thought. She'd only just fallen asleep when the idea came to her. She'd been thinking about Umbridge all through dinner and all night before she'd been able to even close her eyes. They could make a secret group where they learned and taught themselves Defense Against the Dark Arts. Where they practiced Defense.

She'd talk to Harry and Ron, and they could arrange a meeting with friends the next time that they were allowed to go to Hogsmeade. They couldn't meet in the Three Broomsticks, obviously. Too many teachers went there, and they couldn't risk being overheard.

They would have to use somewhere where almost no one from school went. The Shrieking Shack? No, no one would want to go there. Even Hermione didn't like it there, although she knew that the only thing haunting the Shack was superstition and prejudice.

Hermione ran through places in Hogsmeade they could use without being overheard. They'd have to have actual meetings in the castle somewhere, but for the first one… the Hog's Head! The food was atrocious, and the tavern was frequented by illegal traders and all sorts of disreputable people-which meant that no other students or teachers would be there.

She resolved to talk to Harry and Ron about it during breakfast the next morning. She would not give in to Professor Umbridge, or even to Dumbledore's ignorance.

Her thoughts drifted from Dumbledore to Draco Malfoy. He had been right that morning in Defense. Just because he was an 'annoying little prick' and she was an 'annoying little swot', didn't mean they couldn't agree once in a while.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.

 **A/N:** I want to give a quick shout-out to a friend of mine, who helped me through a serious bout of writer's block with this chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Three: The Hog's Head**

* * *

"All I'm saying is to give it a try. We can arrange a meeting at the Hog's Head-no one from Hogwarts goes there, anyway-with some friends, put up a notice in the Gryffindor Common Room, and see how other people like the idea." Hermione said excitedly over breakfast. Harry and Ron looked skeptical.

"Where would we even hold the meetings?" Harry asked, and Hermione gave him a sly smile.

"Leave that bit to me." She smirked.

"I guess it's worth a try," he shrugged.

"Next Hogsmeade day is on Saturday." Ron said. "Think we can get a group together by then?" He asked, the doubt in his voice barely concealed.

"I'm sure of it." Hermione said, and when Harry and Ron finally acquiesced, she grinned. "Just give it a try," she repeated her words from earlier. "Wouldn't you rather be prepared than unprepared?"

* * *

Hermione had been busy.

She'd made a list of the people outside of Gryffindor who would be invited, found them in class or during meals, and told them about the meeting the upcoming Saturday at the Hog's Head. Most people liked the idea, and said they would be there. She had left the Gryffindor notice to Harry and Ron, who eventually had to admit it was a good idea.

There was only one problem: the problem of who would teach. They couldn't just learn the spells from books, like Professor Umbridge had them doing every day.

Hermione thought that Harry should, seeing as he was respected, and had defeated Voldemort.

Harry had fervently contradicted that idea, saying that Hermione should lead, since she knew more than anyone else.

Ron had suggested Lupin, which would have been a good idea, except for the fact that they couldn't sneak him into the castle.

They decided to leave it and see what other people thought on Saturday.

* * *

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you,"

Hermione looked up into the grinning face of George Weasley. She pushed her honey gold curls over one shoulder, and raised her eyebrows. "And why is that?"

"Let's just say the last time these glasses have been cleaned was probably long before you were born." Fred said, and Hermione laughed. Nearly everyone she'd asked to come was there, besides a couple of people who Hermione hadn't counted on coming anyway. One person who Hermione was surprised was not in attendance was Neville. He showed a lot of potential as a wizard, and seemed to be passionate about learning.

There were hardly any other people in the pub, besides a wrinkled hag in one corner who looked to be chewing on a piece of greenish meat, a short, filthy man counting the same five coins over and over again, and the bartender, who was cleaning glasses by hand, despite the fact that his efforts were not doing much to get rid of the grime. Satisfied, Hermione turned to the group gathered around a large table, stained with Merlin-knew-what. She sat down between Harry and Ron, and cleared her throat, waiting as everyone fell silent.

"As I'm sure you all know, our current Defense teacher is… much less than satisfactory." She began, smirking, and watched at her classmates nodded their assent. "She is, as you probably know, from the Ministry, who is trying to shelter us from the fact that there are still Death Eaters out there, doing Voldemort's bidding." She tried not to sound exasperated at the fact that some people still flinched at the name. If there was one thing she agreed with Dumbledore about, it was that a name was just a name, and fear of that name encouraged fear of the person. "In class, we are not using magic, only reading a useless book about using magic.

In light of this, I propose that we form a secret… club if you will, where we learn, practice, and teach ourselves defensive magic. At least for us fifth years, O.W.L.s are this year, and there will be a section on using magic. Even if you don't give a bloody damn about O.W.L.s, it's important to know how to protect yourself, especially at an unstable time like this." She took a breath, taking in the faces around her. "So?" She asked. "What do you say?" George gave a wolf whistle, and everyone at the table voiced their unquestionable approval, clapping and cheering. Hermione grinned widely. But before she could say anything, the door was thrown open, and a gust of bitter autumn wind blew in, along with a panting Neville Longbottom.

"She's… she's coming… she heard about the meeting, don't know from who-" He gasped for air, looking like he'd run all the way to Hogsmeade from the castle.

"Who's coming?" Cedric Diggory asked, and, being nearest to the door (and therefore Neville) stood and patted the wheezing Gryffindor on the back. "Umbridge?" Neville said nothing, but nodded. The table erupted in chaos, students pushing away from the table and out the door as fast as they could.

Hermione frowned as Harry turned to her. "'Mione…" He only ever called her that when he thought she was going to blow up at him. "Maybe it's for the best." He winced, as if expecting a blow. "I mean, we can still practice once in a while, but if Umbridge catches us… I don't know."

Her face was a mask of calm, but Harry and Ron knew better. This was the face that came before her temper erupted, the calm before a storm.

"I mean, we can try but I don't think-" Ron began, but Hermione turned to him.

"Go."

"I-what?" He stuttered, and her nostrils flared.

" _I said, go_."

The boys needed no further instruction as they fled the Hog's Head, the door slamming shut behind them. "You're bloody Gryffindors!" She cried after them. The only sound was the faint chuckling of the bartender, who held up his hands when she turned on him. "You shut up," she growled, drained one of the Weasley twins' glasses of Firewhiskey, and stalked out of the dingy pub into the biting wind.

* * *

She had no one she could talk to. No one who would listen and sympathize as she took her rage out on her vocal chords-and anything around her.

There was no way in hell she was going back to the castle, so she decided to climb up the hill on the other side of Hogsmeade. She sat there for the entire afternoon, rage simmering through her veins. She was furious. Furious at her classmates' cowardice, the way they all just _left_ , without a second thought.

Furious at how in that one action, they somehow managed to make her feel _ashamed_.

Whether it was purposeful or not, she knew she'd probably murder someone if she went back to the castle.

Eventually, Hermione pulled her icy mask back on, settling her features into a countenance of cold disinterest. She slipped through the castle while everyone else was at dinner; she had no appetite. She pulled the curtains around her bed shut, and feigned a deep sleep when everyone else came in from dinner.

Hermione was not prepared to face them yet.

Besides, she didn't think _they_ were prepared to face _her_.

* * *

"So the Granger girl had this idea?" Blaise asked. "And how did you find out?"

"I heard her talking to a couple people the other day about yesterday's meeting at the Hog's Head. I figured I'd go, just to see what was going on. Turned out to be the right thing to do." Draco smirked. "It looks like we'll be the only ones, though. Umbridge heard about it-not from me, I swear on Salazar's grave, Theo, don't give me that look-and the Longbottom boy heard and told everyone before she got there."

"So they all just… left?" Theo asked incredulously.

"Yep." Draco nodded.

"How'd she react?" Blaise asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Who, Granger?"

"No, I actually meant Umbridge, but now I'm curious."

"Umbridge shrieked at the bartender some, waved her arms and her wand around like she'd been cursed or something, then stomped out. Granger… she was scary."

"Scary?" Pansy asked, entering the Slytherin common room where Draco, Blaise, and Theo were seated. "Draco Malfoy is scared? Of what?"

"Not of what, of who, Pansy." Theo laughed as Draco seethed.

"Fine, of who." She amended.

"None other than our favorite witch, Hermione Granger." Blaise drawled, and Draco let out a mock cry, placing a pale hand atop his heart.

"What are you two good for other than giving away my most deepest secrets?" He asked, and Pansy frowned as Blaise and Theo rolled their eyes at his dramatics.

"I thought I was your favorite witch?" She asked, dropping into Draco's lap. He snorted, tapping her nose.

"Of course you are, Pans." He reassured her. They'd been friends for as long as he could remember-hell, their mothers had probably arranged to have their babies in the same place just so their children could grow up together. It had been the hope of both families that the two would eventually marry, but Draco and Pansy had both vehemently denied any feelings beyond friendship for each other.

"That's what I thought," she said, smiling brightly. "Now tell me why Granger scared you. Did she bite you or something, with her big beaver teeth?" Draco laughed.

"No, she got Pomfrey to fix those last year. You remember that meeting I was telling you about?" Pansy nodded. "Umbridge found out about it, and everyone but Granger turned tail like their lives depended on it." He frowned. "Even Potter and Weasel left."

Pansy's eyes widened. "They are Gryffindors, right?"

Blaise nodded. "Exactly. They like to think they're all brave and loyal, but when it comes time to test that bravery and loyalty, very few of them actually are."

"So… are we still taking Granger's idea?" Pansy asked, and Draco nodded. Theo looked mildly offended.

"You told Pansy your plan, but not us?" He asked, and Pansy grinned smugly.

"Well now you know, don't you?" Draco said, and Theo rolled his eyes. "The only thing we have to figure out is where we'll hold our meetings, and who's going to lead." His friends turned to him expectantly. "Hell no. There's no way I'm leading this thing."

"Get Granger to do it, then." Blaise shrugged.

"Yes, I'm sure now that she's been rejected by her own housemates, she'll just come running to us, won't she?" Draco said sarcastically.

"She's supposedly the 'brightest witch of her age'." Theo reminded him. "It's always worth a try, mate."

"Let her prove it, then." Draco said stubbornly, still not acknowledging that his friends were probably right. "But until then, I think we'll be just fine without her."

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you guys like Draco POV, because there will probably be at least one or two Draco POV sections in each chapter from now on! I love writing the Slytherin gang so much.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.

 **A/N:** Thank you so much to any one who is reading this fic, and/or has favorited, reviewed, or followed it. You guys are the best! It makes me so happy to know that you guys enjoy this story. I'm super excited to show you guys what happens next!

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Patronuses and Plots**

* * *

"Hermione, c'mon. You have to understand. Umbridge is, well, Umbridge!" Ron cried. Hermione continued to ignore him, writing her Potions essay.

She knew she would forgive them eventually, but for now… there was some part of her, some Slytherin part that relished their discomfort, and wanted to make them feel the way they had made her feel.

Ron continued to plead with her, and soon enough, she looked up, her hazel eyes cold. "Listen, Ron. I have a Potions essay to write. I know you do too, so I would suggest you stop wasting your time and go write it. Or just leave. I don't care if you do it or not. But let me do my homework, Ron. Please." He gaped at her and stood, walking to the door of the now-silent Common Room. He turned back, but Hermione had already returned to writing her essay.

* * *

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione cried. Her opponent's wand flew out of it's hand, and into hers. She wiped a bead of sweat from her temple, and pushed an errant curl behind her ear, where it promptly fell back into her face again.

The downside to practicing against a wooden (albeit magical, moving, and spell-casting) dummy was that it was predictable. The upside was that it was fast, and it challenged her at least on that level. She pushed her curls away from her damp forehead, and returned the dummy's wand.

The Room of Requirement had given her books on all sorts of defensive (and offensive) magic, including wandless and wordless. She was almost done reviewing the basic spells, and was about to move on to more difficult spells, like Patronuses. After that, she'd work on wandless and wordless magic. If she finished that, she'd try to become an Animagus.

She realized that even though her classmates were too afraid of Umbridge to join her, she could still teach herself on her own. Of course, dueling with a dummy was not as helpful or realistic as dueling with another witch or wizard, but she supposed it would have to do. She moved away from the dummy, moving to the huge bookshelves on the opposite end of the large training room. She climbed the sliding latter (probably one of her favorite parts of the entire room) and pulled out a book on Patronuses.

Flipping through it, she found a chapter titled _Casting Your Patronus_ , and began to read.

 _In casting one's Patronus, it is essential to hold a happy memory or thought in your mind. This is because the entire point of a Patronus Charm is to ward away Dementors, which leech happiness from anyone, Muggle or wizard, around._

 _After securing your happy thought, practice the words of the spell without your wand. Simply say 'Expecto Patronum!', placing the emphasis on the second 'e' in 'Expecto' and on the 'o' in 'Patronum'. The wand motion for a Patronus is simply an inverted arc…_

Hermione scanned the rest of the page, but the rest of the chapter seemed to be about the effects of the spell and examples of both successes and failures.

A happy thought… That was going to be a little hard, seeing as a lot of her happy memories were with Harry and Ron, who she was currently not speaking to. So she thought back, before Hogwarts, before magic… Oh! She remembered the exact day that Professor McGonagall came to her house and told her that she was a witch, and was to go to a magical boarding school-just like something from one of her books. She'd never been more excited, or happy. Before that day, magic was something to be believed in or to not be believed in, something she read about and wished for. After that day, it had been something tangible, something real, and something _she_ had.

Leaving her wand in her pocket for the time being, she chanted the words. "Expecto Patronum!" She tried the words a couple of times, following the author's advice. Before putting it all together, Hermione pulled out her wand, and made the 'inverted arc' motion as well.

Pulling up her happy memory, she smiled to herself, and without further hesitation, cried, " _Expecto Patronum_!", flicking her wand. A silvery sort of mist flew out of her wand, and evaporated just as quickly as it had appeared.

Swearing, she turned back to the book. She went to the next chapter, which was titled _Practicing Your Patronus_.

 _If you are having trouble casting your Patronus, you may want to select a happier memory._ That wasn't her problem. She skipped over the next paragraph. _Another thing to do is to imagine you are faced with a real Dementor, and cast the spell with more force than you would normally use in practice. Lastly, practice is something that never fails to help. If you don't get it on the first try, then do it again. If you_ do _get it on the first try… then go in for an interview with the Daily Prophet._

Steeling herself, she tried again. And again. And again.

* * *

"As you all know, fifth year is the O.W.L. year." Snape began, sounding extremely bored. "This means that you can no longer… slack off during class, if you wish to score well on the test. Your Potions O.W.L. will be comprised of two sections; there will be an essay section as well as a section where you must brew a specific potion. Everyone's assigned potion will be different, so no, Miss Patil, no one will be able to look at what-or how-their classmates are doing." Parvati put her hand down as Snape sneered at the class. "Are there any questions? Good." He said, giving no time for anyone to even put their hand up, let alone ask a question. "Today, you will learn to brew a Babbling Beverage. There are instructions on page one-hundred and forty of your book. The instructions are perfectly clear, so if one of you idiots botches the potion, then you may find yourself in my office for detention, once you are out of the Infirmary. Have I made myself clear?" The class nodded, half expecting him to demand a proper response, as Umbridge did.

"Do you think he meant that we'd go to the Infirmary because of the potion, or because of _him_?" Ron asked once Snape sat back down at his desk and the class began taking out books, ingredients, and cauldrons. Hermione did not sit next to them as she usually did, but was instead seated a couple rows ahead of them. She'd hardly said a thing to them, or, for that matter, anyone. The Gryffindor girls said she disappeared every night, and Harry wondered if she was training on her own. He desperately wanted to come to terms with her, but had no idea how. Ron, of course, was no help.

"I dunno. Probably both." He said, pulling out his copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_. "But I don't think you want to find out." He reminded Ron, who hadn't taken anything out yet. Harry knew that Ron was a good person, but he needed to grow up and learn to fend for himself.

* * *

Draco watched as Hermione Granger walked out of a wall.

He was hidden, of course, so she couldn't see him, but he still shrunk back even deeper into the shadows. Blaise stood next to him, eyebrows raised. He had casted a Silencing Spell when they had come across the rippling wall on their way down to the Slytherin common room, but kept his voice low anyway.

"She's a bloody genius." Draco muttered. "The Room of Requirement is perfect. Why didn't we think of that?"

"You're drooling, Draco." Blaise smirked and Draco ignored his friend. He wasn't _drooling_. "I hope the only reason you agreed to come wasn't to gawk at Granger. She's a Gryffindor! That's something only _I_ would do, mate."

"Merlin, Blaise. Is everything about witches and beauty for you?" Draco asked irritably, watching Granger head towards the Gryffindor common rooms.

"I can't help being beautiful, Draco." Blaise grinned. "By the way, have you had any more ideas about who should lead our little group, since you're so opposed to leading yourself?"

"You sound as if you have an idea. Should I be scared?"

"It's nothing you haven't heard before, Draco."

"You still think we should get Granger."

"She's incredibly intelligent, she's cunning, she's ambitious, not to mention she currently hates all of the Gryffindors… She may as well be a Slytherin, Draco." Draco opened and closed his mouth, having nothing to say. "Did you have any other ideas?" Blaise asked, knowing Draco didn't.

"Fine!" He cried, throwing his hands in the air. "But how do we get her to do it?"

Blaise smiled slyly. "Leave that to me, Draco my fine ferrety friend." Draco rolled his eyes at the nickname he'd earned fourth year after being transfigured into a ferret.

"What are you going to do, Blaise." He asked flatly.

"I'm gonna make her an offer she can't refuse." He said, making his voice rough and grating. When Draco gave him a questioning, slightly concerned look, he shook his head, laughing a little. "It's from a Muggle movie."

* * *

 **A/N:** Extra points to anyone who knows what movie Blaise just referenced! Feel free to post a review if you know what it is!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.

 **A/N:** Sorry for the late update! I had a pretty busy day yesterday, and didn't have time to update. But here it is!

Hugs and Chocolate Frogs to anyone who knew what movie Blaise referenced at the end of the last chapter! For those of you who don't know, he was referencing The Godfather. I may or may not sneak some more references (to Harry Potter and other things) along the way. Also, for any of you who are confused, the Slytherins' plan is to get Hermione to help them, and push her out later, if she gets too Gryffindor-y. **Rankin de Merthyr** , you will be pleased to know that I do have a plan as to what I want to happen and how I want this fic to end. I definitely agree that there are a lot more options out there for Harry Potter fanfics than just Voldemort. Again, thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone reading this.

* * *

 **Chapter Five: The Ploy**

* * *

After a week of practice, hours each night, an exhausted yet triumphant Hermione perfected her Patronus Charm.

Of course, that hadn't been the only thing she was working on. She'd been dueling before and after each night's practice session, sometimes trying out harder spells on one dummy, sometimes dueling multiple. After the first couple of nights, she'd realized she needed to improve the dummies, so she was also carefully peeling away the layer of spells to see how they were charmed, and would later double up the charms along with adding some new ones.

Fortunately, no one in the Gryffindor girl's dormitory asked where she went each night. They probably assumed the worst, seeing as almost none of the Gryffindors even had the nerve to say anything to her. She tried to ignore it, but the only time she could really get away from her real life was while she was training. For what, she didn't know. Maybe she'd become an Auror when she got out of school. Or maybe she was just training to prove herself, to prove to everyone who had left that day that she was stronger than what they made her.

One late Wednesday night found Hermione in the Room of Requirement, her puma Patronus prowling around the edges of the room.

Harry seemed to be in perpetual detention with Umbridge, for continuing to 'lie to the class and himself'. Ron seemed more distant than ever, but, from what Hermione saw, was at least trying to be more responsible. She knew Harry wanted desperately to talk with her again, and Ron did too, although he would never admit it.

Hermione was still angry with her classmates for walking out on her, but she was beginning to forgive them, slowly. She knew she held a grudge longer than most did, but only about the big things. After being called 'Mudblood' and 'know-it-all' so many times, she had learned to ignore the little things.

Sighing, she checked the time, knowing she should probably get back to the dormitory. It was eleven. She tried to remember when she'd started-eight-thirty, maybe?

She'd perfected her Patronus, and had successfully taken off the first layer of spells on the dummy. She felt… satisfied. Like she'd already proven that she could do anything she set her mind to.

 _Maybe_ , she thought, _I'm the only one I have to prove myself to_.

* * *

 _(Earlier that night)_

"You know you can't just go up to her and be all chummy, just like that, Draco." Blaise said. "You do have a _plan_ , don't you?" When Draco was silent, Blaise put his face in his palm. "Salazar, Draco. You really thought you could just go up and ask?" Draco shrugged, his usually pale face reddening a bit. "Maybe _I_ should be the one to intercept her tonight. Besides, she'd probably punch you again out of surprise if you said anything besides 'Mudblood' to her."

Draco rubbed his nose subconsciously, as if just thinking about Granger punching him reminded him of the time she'd broken his nose in third year. "I haven't called her a Mudblood since the beginning of fourth year, Blaise."

"I'm so proud of you, ferret." His friend drawled sarcastically. "But really. The only things she's used to from you are insults and hexes. She doesn't know me, so there'll be less of a chance of Granger's fist connecting with Slytherin flesh, and more of a chance of her agreeing to help us." Blaise reasoned, and Draco sighed.

"All right, Blaise. I give up. You go talk to her." Personally, Draco didn't think there was much of a chance of Granger agreeing-she _had_ been sorted into Gryffindor, after all. And, Draco supposed, if there was one thing that defined Gryffindors, it was their shared hate of Slytherins. Plus, Granger was smart. She was bound to figure out that they were playing some sort of game with her. And then she'd probably sneak Veritaserum into their pumpkin juice at breakfast and make them tell her what was going on.

If she didn't poison them first.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the Room of Requirement to find Blaise Zabini standing in the corridor, leaning against the far wall. He nodded respectfully at her, and her brow-along with her suspicion-rose.

"What are you doing here, Zabini?" She asked.

"I might ask you the same question, Granger, seeing as you just walked out of a wall," he quipped.

"Get to it, Zabini. You obviously have something to say, and I obviously have somewhere to be, so if you don't spit it out, you'll have to keep it in." She snapped, the exhaustion finally getting to her, and making her crankier than she usually was when talking to Slytherins.

Hermione stepped out of the Room of Requirement to find Blaise Zabini standing in the corridor, leaning against the far wall. He nodded respectfully at her, and her brow-along with her suspicion-rose.

"What are you doing here, Zabini?" She asked.

"I might ask you the same question, Granger, seeing as you just walked out of a wall," he quipped.

"Get to it, Zabini. You obviously have something to say, and I obviously have somewhere to be, so if you don't spit it out, you'll have to keep it in." She snapped, the exhaustion finally getting to her, and making her crankier than she usually was when talking to Slytherins.

"Tired, Granger?" He asked, and she put her hands on her hips.

"Only of you."

He put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "In that case… I'll just leave." He turned away to go, knowing he had piqued her curiosity, despite her best efforts to conceal it.

"Fine. Just tell me what you have to say, and let me go to sleep." She said, and he was struck by the weariness in her voice. She sounded… tired. Tired physically and emotionally.

"That's the spirit, Granger," he grinned, and when she remained unamused, he continued. "You remember that meeting… In the Hog's Head? The one where everyone ran out on you after you presented your idea?" He asked, hoping to strike a chord within her. At the look on her face, he held up his hands. "Hey, wasn't me. But anyway-"

"How do you know about that meeting?" She asked.

"I hate to break it to you, Granger, but it's not hard to sit in the Hog's Head in some shadowy corner and listen to a very loud conversation. Now, can I continue? As I was saying, even though the other houses didn't necessarily like the idea, the Slytherins did. So much so, in fact, that we would like you to help us out." Her eyes widened and her brows seemed to lift into her hairline.

"Did I hear you right? Did a Slytherin just ask a Muggle-born Gryffindor to help you out with a Defense group?" She asked, and Blaise nodded, unsure whether the awe in her voice meant she would or not. "Mother of Merlin. You really are a lot of idiots, aren't you?"

Blaise blinked, before covering it up and plastering a grin onto his features. "Yup. And bloody proud of it, too."

"What are you, the ambassador or something?" She asked scornfully.

"I prefer the term 'charming, part-time messenger'."

"Well you can bring this message back to your house: you tell them that I would rather die than help you. I don't know what game you're trying to play with me, but I'm not going to be a pawn or your opponent. I don't need your help, and you certainly don't need mine. I'm not an idiot, Zabini." She said, and spat at his feet, turned on her heel, and disappeared up the stairs-flipping an obscene gesture to him as she went-to Gryffindor tower before Blaise could even lift his jaw up from the floor.

 _Well_ , he thought, _that went terribly_.

* * *

"Balderdash." Hermione said, watching as the Fat Lady swung her portrait back. She stepped through into the empty Gryffindor common room. She was pretty sure that she was having a dream-maybe she'd fallen asleep in the Room of Requirement, or something. Because why in the name of Merlin's saggy pants would the Slytherins want her, a 'swotty, Mudblood Gryffindor' to 'help them'? And why would she want to help them? She decided she would just forget about it all, and hope she was just very, very tired.

"Hermione?" She whirled around, reaching for her wand, and put a hand to her chest when she saw it was only Harry.

"Oh, Harry, you gave me a fright." She said, and he smiled, albeit a little warily. He was wary. Of her. "What are you doing up?"

"I just… wanted to apologize. For what happened at the Hog's Head, and for, well, treating you like shite." He said quietly, and she had the strong urge to hug him.

"Thank you, Harry. So far, you're the only one who has. I know I hold a grudge for longer than probably is healthy, but I forgive you. If everyone else only bothered to apologize… I don't know. Part of me feels like they were just following their instincts, and the other part of me wants them to apologize for the way they hurt me. And, for the record, you're the best friend I have, Harry. Sure, there's times we've gone off on each other, but..." she shrugged. "You're like a brother to me." She sat down next to him, and put her head on his shoulder, leaning back.

"'Mione, you are the sister I never had. Except now I have you." He said, grinning. She took his hand, smiling, but he hissed, and she let go, sitting up. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry! Did that awful woman make you use the Black Quill again?" She cried, taking his hand in hers, and examining it. The back of his hand was red and irritated, and she could tell that even with Murtlap Essence, it would still scar. "I would tell you to stay out of trouble, but it doesn't seem like you get into any. In Umbridge's class, anyway." She said, and he grinned sheepishly.

"I missed you, 'Mione." He said, and she nodded.

"I missed you, too."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.

 **A/N:** Just a little change I made: if you look back at chapter five, you'll notice I changed Hermione's Patronus from a lioness to a puma. I feel like a puma captures Hermione's personality more than a lioness does. I know that for me at least, a lioness brings my mind right to the part of Hermione that got her sorted into Gryffindor. That part is definitely a defining factor in her personality, but it isn't the only part of her.

Anyway! Chapter Six!

* * *

 **Chapter Six: The Confrontation**

* * *

"I'm telling you, Draco. She did not want anything to do with us. I'm starting to wonder if _we_ still want anything to do with _her_." Blaise insisted, and Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"What did she do?"

"She-well, you see…" Blaise sputtered, unable to put into words the way she had instantly shut him down and made him feel like a fool with a few well-placed words.

"I guess the more appropriate question would be what did _you_ do?" Draco asked.

"I did nothing! Well, besides tell her the plan and try and be as charming as possible to a cranky Gryffindor who looked like she might punch me if it weren't eleven at night."

"I assume she was immune to your charms?" Draco asked, trying to hide a smile.

"There's a first time for everything, Blaise," Theo reassured his friend, laughing.

"I don't see how we're going to be able to get her to help us. She's stubborn as Salazar, and has got a wit to match."

"Changing your decision, Blaise?" Draco asked smugly. Blaise shook his head, refusing to give in.

"So? What are we going to do, Imperius her?" Pansy asked jokingly. "Why are we even bothering with Granger?"

"Because she's brilliant, and none of us are good enough at Defense to teach, and those of who are don't want to." Theo said, giving a pointed glance towards Draco.

"Say that again Theo," Pansy said. "I need to have a recording of that, for later."

"You planning on blackmailing me, or something?" The Slytherin asked, slightly worried.

"Maybe. Or maybe I'd just show it to Granger, and see what she thinks." She threatened, grinning.

"You wouldn't dare," Theo growled.

Draco cleared his throat. " _Anyway_ , what are we going to do?"

"Something will come to us. Just wait." Blaise reassured him.

* * *

Hermione and Harry walked into the History of Magic classroom, and took their seats. Scanning the room, Hermione saw that Ron was not there yet. She wanted to talk to him, but so far, her attempts had failed.

At breakfast, she had sat down next to Ron, who promptly got up, claiming he had forgot something in his dormitory.

In Potions, he sat at the other end of the room with Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, much to the amusement of Snape, and the bewilderment of the Slytherins. Of course, all the Gryffindors knew about what was going on.

There was nothing she could do in Umbridge's class, who had developed a strong disliking towards Hermione, and she could hardly say anything without being put in detention. Which was an experience she did _not_ care to repeat.

Before Care of Magical Creatures, Harry, Ron and Hermione had been talking with Hagrid, but Ron had refused to acknowledge her. She decided just to leave it, and let him apologize on his own terms. She was glad that she was back on speaking terms with Harry, but they both agreed that Ron had to grow up. He was still their best friend, but he continued to act like a child, refusing to speak to Hermione or even look at her. He was acting as if he was the one who had been wronged, and that, more than anything, was what bugged Hermione.

Ron walked into class, sitting down next to Harry-so that Harry was a sort of barrier between him and Hermione. She was annoyed that Ron was using Harry as a result of his and Hermione's 'fight', but knew that he had to take care of his problems on his own. No more help from 'Mione. She would still be his friend, but would no longer do his homework, or check his essays, or remind him which class they had next.

She ignored Ron, which seemed to nettle him, for some reason. He began talking to Seamus about Quidditch, but continued giving subtle glances towards Hermione, who was talking to Harry. The bell rang, and Professor Binns floated out of the blackboard.

"Today…" Everyone in the class immediately stopped paying attention once their professor began talking.

"Do you know if Umbridge is making us read again?" Harry asked Hermione, and she

shrugged.

"Why?"

"Because I left mine on the Quidditch pitch at practice this morning. I think I'll just see if Parvati can get Padma's for me, but I don't want to get it if I won't need it." He whispered. Padma, Parvati's twin sister, was in Ravenclaw, and so did not have Defense at the same time as they did.

"Ask Fred or George at lunch," Hermione suggested. Ron turned from his conversation with Seamus (still talking heatedly about Quidditch) and shot them a dirty look. Hermione tried her best not to roll her eyes. "Have you talked to him?" Hermione asked Harry, who was also looking annoyed.

"No. I'll try again after class, but I think you should come with. Besides, no one will care if we're late to lunch."  
Hermione thought for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. "Alright."

After what seemed like forever, the bell rang, Professor Binns floated back through the wall, and the students hurried out of the History of Magic classroom.

Harry and Hermione packed their bags quickly, and headed out of the classroom to intercept Ron, who was walking slowly towards the Great Hall, probably waiting for Dean and Seamus to catch up.

Hermione put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Listen, Ron…" she began tentatively, and when he grunted in acknowledgement, she continued. "Harry and I have been talking, and-"

"Oh, so you and Harry are all chummy now? What happened, 'Mione? What did I do wrong?" He asked, throwing her hand off his shoulder. She bristled.

"What happened? Harry apologized, is what happened!" She cried. "If you had only had the sense, the sensitivity in you to do that one simple, simple thing, we wouldn't be having this problem!"

"If you'd said something, 'Mione, I swear I would've apologized, it's only that-"

"I shouldn't have to remind you to apologize! I'm not your mother, Ron." She turned around and began stalking back to the Gryffindor tower, no longer hungry.

"'Mione-" Ron began.

"Don't call me that," she hissed scathingly, and he fell silent.

* * *

Hermione watched as a group of Slytherins stood up from their table and quickly, quietly left the Great Hall. It was dinner, but she still had no appetite. She had been thinking about what had happened night before all day, and deduced that it had not, in fact, been a dream, as she had been hoping. She figured she may as well put it out in the open, rather than let the situation-and her reluctant curiosity-fester.

Murmuring that she had to use the bathroom and excusing herself from the table, Hermione left the Great Hall. She listened for the sound of voices, and heard the Slytherins going up the stairs. Straining her ears for some sense of where they were going, Hermione stepped closer to the staircase.

"-we'll just see what we get," someone-Draco?-was saying.

"What're you going to ask the Room for?" Someone else in the group asked, and Hermione stepped back into the shadows. They were going to the Room of Requirement; for what, though? Could they really be teaching themselves Defense?

Hermione quickly climbed a different set of stairs, a shortcut she, Harry, and Ron had found sometime during their fourth year. She rushed down the seventh floor corridor, slightly out of breath, and skidded to a stop in front of the blank wall that hid the Room of Requirement. Leaning against the wall-in the very middle of where she knew the door would appear-she caught her breath, rubbing away the stitch in her side, and waited for the Slytherins to arrive. After a couple minutes, they appeared. At first, they did not notice her, but as they neared the Room's hidden door, some Slytherins stopped, gesturing to the others.

One Slytherin at the front of the group spoke. "Granger?" Malfoy asked, eyes widening. He turned to Blaise Zabini, who was standing next to him. "You said she didn't want to help us!"

"And he was right, Malfoy." She said cooly. "I don't want to help. I just want to know why _you_ want me to help. You bully me, call me Mudblood, hex me. I punched you! Why would you ask me to help you?" She asked.

Malfoy's pale face belied nothing. "I figured if we were going to steal your idea, we may as well get some of your knowledge along with it."

"There are books, you know." She said scornfully. "Even if you're too lazy to do any work yourself, I'm sure there are plenty of other people in this school who would agree to help you."

"Listen, Granger." Theo Nott said calmly, placing his hands together. "If you don't want to accept the offer, don't accept it. But just let us continue with our lives, and you'll continue with yours. No harm done."

"Was that a threat, Nott?" She asked, eyes flickering dangerously, and he shook his head, hands raised.

"No, I didn't mean-I only meant that we can both carry on with our lives if you just drop it."

"I was only asking why you decided to forget the five years of torment to ask me to help you-and why you thought I would forget those years." She said quietly. She had never let anyone know they had gotten to her, but she had spent many a night in the girl's bathroom, simply staring at her reflection and wondering whether what they said was true.

She no longer cared what anyone said about her, but her memories from the past five years were enough to fuel a grudge against anyone who had called her names or bullied her.

"We didn't think you would forget them," Theo said. "We only hoped you'd look past them as… our immaturity. We've gotten past that point in life-I know I have, at least."

Hermione considered this. "I don't know if I trust you yet." She said, and walked away.

"Bloody Gryffindor." Draco muttered. "More like a Slytherin, if you ask me."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.

 **A/N:** Another reference in this chapter! (Hint: It's from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire)

Anyway, here's today's chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Seating Arrangments**

* * *

"All right, folks. I think it's time to wrap up this meeting." Draco said, trying to put a bright note in his voice, despite how quickly the Slytherins' first meeting had gone south. They still had no idea what to call their group, but that, as he was realizing, was the least of their worries.

The rest of his housemates filed out of the Room of Requirement, leaving only him, Theo, Blaise, and Pansy.

Once everyone else had left, Draco let out a long sigh, running his hands through his already-mussed blonde hair, something he did when he was stressed or frustrated.

"Well, that went well, didn't it?" Theo said sarcastically, and Draco put his head in his hands.

"How does Granger do it? Where did she start?" He wondered. The Slytherins' first meeting had been… less than satisfactory. The Room of Requirement had given them

"You have to remember, mate, she's not teaching a bunch of other people-she's only teaching herself." Theo reassured.

"And she's the brightest witch of her age." Blaise reminded him. He was still trying to convince Draco to talk to her, even after the incidence that occurred earlier that night, and the lack of success he'd had the previous night.

"Give it up, Blaise. You've said it, she's said it-we've all said it. She doesn't want anything to do with us." Draco said.

"We can figure this out on our own," Theo said. "I don't want to rely on Granger, for anything."

"So… what happens now?" Pansy asked. "Do we struggle on, or do we call it quits?"

Everyone turned to look at Draco, who despite his protests, had been named the informal leader of the group. "We do what Slytherins have always done. We continue. I know we can make something of this, if we all just put our best foot in."

"Hear, hear." Blaise said heartily.

"Hear, hear." The group repeated.

"Good. Now that that's settled, I was thinking we should have meetings at least twice a week. We can start off small, and then…"

* * *

"I don't know why you bother, 'Mione." Harry said as his friend fell into step next to him. "Sometimes, it's best to leave it. Let him come around of his own accord."

"I know you're right, Harry. I just can't help but feel that it's somehow my fault. That I'm held the grudge too long, and now… I don't know. You and Ron have been my friends for so long, and it's silly that we would lose that friendship after all we've been through together."

Harry nodded. "I get it, 'Mione. I really do. But you can't let him get in the way of other things." They entered Professor Umbridge's classroom, and Hermione smiled at Harry as she sat down in her seat, and he into the one next to her.

Once the bell rang, Umbridge moved to the front of the classroom, and gave a sharp rap on the blackboard with her wand, as the class was now used to her doing. "Good afternoon, class." She said sweetly.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge." The class chanted back, their voices monotone and faces bored.

"We're going to change things up a little bit, class." At this, the students looked hopeful. Could they finally be _practicing_ magic? "I've decided to give you all assigned seating-I believe that it would be more beneficial to your learning in this classroom." No one dared to show how they felt about this, for fear of detention with Umbridge, who was now infamous for her detentions. Nevertheless, Hermione could hear the groan left unsaid, hanging in the air. Umbridge apparently heard it too. Her voice assumed a poisonous, saccharine tone. "Now, now, class. It's not all that bad. Why, you yourselves said that you wanted to learn to defend yourselves. I have felt that this class has been… underperforming, and once you are not distracted by your friends, you're learning experience will be more positive with me. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge." The class said.

"Very good, class. Mister Finnigan, front row, right corner, please. Mister Thomas…" Umbridge continued moving students around the classroom like pawns, until there were only a couple students who had yet to be moved. Umbridge surveyed them. "Miss Granger… remain where you are. Now, Mister Potter and Mister Weasley, switch seats. Mister Crabbe, please move to the front row next to Mister Potter. Mister Goyle, move next to Mister Finnigan. Mister Malfoy, please take the empty seat next to Miss Granger." Hermione gritted her teeth. What was it with this woman? Draco slumped into the seat next to her.

"Wonderful! Now that that's settled, please turn to chapter fifteen in your books, and begin reading. Once you have finished the chapter, please close your books, so I know you are done, and we can move on to today's notes." The students pulled out their books and soon enough the room was silent, filled only with the sound of turning pages and boredom. Hermione actually drifted off for a few minutes, only to jerk back awake when Umbridge cleared her throat.

"Hem, hem." More than a few students startled as if they, too, had fallen asleep. They most likely had. "I see everyone is done, so please begin taking notes." The professor tapped the blackboard at the front of the room, and her familiar, loopy handwriting appeared as the students bent over their papers and the stuffy air crowded with the sound of scratching quills.

The class moved through their routine like puppets, pretending to read what they already knew, and half-heartedly scrawling notes onto their parchment about Defensive Magic Theory, and how to cast a Disarming Charm-one of the the first spells they'd learned in Defense.

She tried to ignore the fact that she was sitting next to Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley-at least the former had the sense to pretend as if he wasn't looking at her. Ron, however, made no move to hide his curious glances. However, it was remarkably hard to look as if she was focusing on her work (even though she had no wish to actually do it), with two of her least favorite people sitting on either side of her, looking at her every other minute. Ron, she suspected, was trying to get her to look at him-this was really getting ridiculous-or to talk to him after class. Draco… Well, he was probably still trying to get her to join the Slytherins' little club.

Hermione had long finished her notes when she saw a small piece of folded parchment drop onto her desk. She kept one hand on her desk, and used the other to subtly unfold it underneath the desk.

 _Believe me, Granger. I'm about as happy as you are about this seating arrangement._

She rolled her eyes, and looked over at Draco. _No shit_ , she mouthed, then folded over the note, and hastily scribbled, _Still trying to recruit me, Malfoy?_

He smirked as he read the note.

I _was actually going to tell you we don't need you anymore, Granger,_ was his response.

 _Good._ She scrawled, pushing away the strange feeling that fluttered through. She didn't feel like unpacking her emotions at the moment.

Umbridge cleared her throat, and Hermione and Draco both looked hastily down at their papers. Draco pushed the scrap of paper they'd been using under his book, but just a second too late.

"Passing notes, Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy?" Hermione bit her tongue to keep from voicing her frustration. _Come on, Malfoy. Use some of that pureblood privilege and get us out of here._

"No, Professor Umbridge." Malfoy said, with the patient air of someone speaking to a child. "I thought I made it quite clear that I don't usually like to interact with Mudbloods or Gryffindors."

"Detention, Mister Malfoy, for your tone. And you, too, Miss Granger, for passing notes to Mister Malfoy."

"Professor-" Hermione began, but just then, the bell rang, and Umbridge gave her a wide, sticky smile before disappearing into her office. Hermione forcefully shoved her parchment and quill into her bag and set off for Arithmancy.

* * *

"Really, Draco?" Blaise asked incredulously. "You sit next to Granger for one class period, and all of the sudden, the two of you are passing notes? In Defense? And you got caught by Umbridge? Please tell me at least one of those things didn't happen."

"One of those things didn't happen?" Draco cringed a little.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Theo asked, trying to hide his laughter, unlike Pansy, who was roaring with mirth in the armchair next to him.

"Umbridge sat us next to each other, if you didn't notice. And all I told her was that-"

"You started it? Salazar, Draco." Pansy gasped.

"Do you really think Granger would write Draco a note without being written one first?" Blaise asked, one dark eyebrow raised.

"True," Pansy conceded.

"Anyway, all I said was that we didn't need her help anymore." Draco muttered.

"A true gentleman." Pansy teased.

"You know me, Pans." Draco said sarcastically, and Pansy fluttered her eyelashes, pretending to preen. He grinned.

"What time is it?" Theo asked, and Blaise checked his watch.

"It's almost five, why?" Blaise responded, and Draco started.

"I've got to talk to Snape about an essay I turned in the other day, I said I'd come see him around five-thirty." Theo said.

"Shit, I've got to get to Umbridge's office. I've got detention tonight, and she'll probably make me write 'I love the Ministry' on the back of my hand if I'm late." Draco said, and sped up the stairs, hastily bidding his friends goodbye.

* * *

Hermione cracked open the door to Umbridge's office and stepped in, letting the door shut behind her.

"Please, please. Have a seat, Miss Granger. Mister Malfoy should be here any moment now." Umbridge said sweetly, her voice nearly as sickening as the room around them.

Hermione sat in one of the desks and waited, drumming her fingers across the dark wood of the desktop. Just as she felt he might never come, there was a quick knock on the door. She let out a subtle sigh. Never in her entire life had she been so glad to see Draco Malfoy-even if it was only so she didn't have to stay with this wretched woman for a minute longer than she had to.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy. We were just wondering where you'd gotten off to." Umbridge murmured as Malfoy sat down in the other desk next to Hermione's. "I want you to write something different today. I know last time I had you write 'I must not tell lies', but today each of you will write something different." Hermione kept her face calm as Umbridge gave them each a Black Quill. "Mister Malfoy, I would like you to write, 'I must not mix with Mudbloods', and Miss Granger, I would like you to write, 'I must not interact with those of higher blood status'. Have I made myself clear?"

Hermione ground her teeth. "Actually, Professor, I was just wondering if you are aware that Black Quills are a torture device now banned in many wizarding communities, including this one. To be caught with one is punishable by a very large fine, if not with a short stay in Azkaban. I can only imagine what the consequences of using one on others, let alone minors, would be."

Umbridge's eyes bugged out, and her face turned a dark shade of red. "You forget your place, Miss Granger!" Hermione regarded the professor calmly.

"Is that so?" She asked.

"Yes! You also forget that I work for the Ministry, and am very close with Minister Fudge." Her eyes were wild. "I can get away with things that would make your hair curl." Umbridge snarled.

"Not that it needs it," Draco muttered.

Umbridge took a breath, regaining her composure. "Now, let's begin your lines. I will decide when you are ready to be dismissed. Until then, I expect you to continue writing."

Hermione put the tip of the quill to her paper. Come on, she told herself. Just because you write it down doesn't mean you believe it. You know what you believe, and it's not this.

So why was she still writing?

I must not interact with those of higher, cleaner blood status.

I must not interact with those of higher, cleaner blood status.

I must not-

Hermione set the quill down, tears stinging her eyes-and not just because of her throbbing hand.

A quick glance to her side told her that Draco was having a hard a time of it, too. He had written everything but the last word. His hand kept moving to the paper, but his brow was set in consternation.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Umbridge asked, tilting her head.

"Yes." Hermione said. Draco looked up, his eyebrows raised.

"And what would that be?" The professor asked venomously.

"I can not write what you asked me to." She said, her voice unwavering.

Umbridge sputtered, her face coloring. "I, well that's-"

"Is there a problem, Professor Umbridge?" Hermione asked, and with that, she stood and walked out of the office.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.

 **A/N:** AAH! I completely forgot to put in the last part of last week's chapter (which is the most important part!) when I updated! I put it in on Saturday, so if you have not already, please, please, go read the end of Chapter Seven. It's important.

Sorry for the late update this week, I've just been pretty busy recently.

Phew! Now that that's out of the way, the Harry Potter reference in the last chapter was actually Umbridge's line, "I can get away with things that could make your hair curl," and Draco's line, "Not that it needs it." Yes, the former was actually "I _know_ things that could make your hair curl," and yes, both lines were originally said by Rita Skeeter, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to put it in.

Also, I realized a couple days ago that the potion Hermione makes after detention with Umbridge is not, in fact, Essence of Murtlap, but actually Murtlap Essence. Oops. Anyway, I went back and changed it all, and just wanted to let you know, in case it was driving anyone insane :).

So! Read the end of Chapter Seven, then read this chapter!

For those of you who have already read the add-on to the last chapter, enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: The High Inquisitor**

* * *

The first thing Draco felt as he watched Hermione Granger walk out of Umbridge's office was shock. The next, envy.

What was it about the bushy-haired Gryffindor that made him envious?

Well, for starters, she was out of detention and he was, of course, still in it. She'd probably have a couple week's worth of detentions in her future, but he preferred to live in the present, in which she was gone and he was not.

His hand was burning with pain and his mind with the knowledge of the unforgivable word he'd written on his hand.

This, he supposed, was why Granger was in Gryffindor and he was in Slytherin. He had the courage to leave detention- _Umbridge's_ detention, at that-while he merely entertained fantasies of making a dramatic exit from an undeserved detention.

While Draco contemplated the differences between him and Granger-not that he cared, he was just bored-Umbridge was turning all sorts of shades of furious-rage, shock, and contempt to name a few. She stood from her desk and began walking as fast as her little legs could carry her (which was surprisingly fast) towards the door of her office. She stopped at the door, as if just remembering he was still sitting there.

"You may as well leave, Mister Malfoy!" She cried, and stormed out of the room, muttering something about 'headstrong Mudblood' and 'when I find her…'.

Draco stood, scanned the room, and was about to move towards the door when he turned back to the desk he'd been sitting at, grabbed the Black Quill, and snapped it in half.

He left it on Umbridge's desk, along with the rest of her collection.

* * *

Hermione knew Umbridge would come looking for her, so instead of heading to Gryffindor tower, she strode quickly in the opposite direction-to the Room of Requirement.

She had gotten good at hiding her emotions, even at times like this when they rose in her throat, threatening to choke her, and covered her insides with their filmy, greasy residue.

 _I need a place where I can get away from Umbridge-physically and emotionally._

A set of ornate French doors appeared in the empty stone wall facing Hermione, and, curious, she pulled them open and slipped through.

She stood on a balcony that faced a wide, shimmering expanse of ocean. Above the water, as far as the eye could see, the vast night sky spread out like a canvas. The swathe of obsidian midnight that reflected in her upturned eyes was studded with millions of twinkling reminders that there was more than just the Earth out there.

Sometimes, she realized, it felt as if her problems might swallow her, but in truth, they were minute. The mere blink of an eye in the span of eons, eras, ages. Calm spread through her veins like golden, honeyed nectar, and she closed her eyes, letting the soft breeze brush across her face, dusting her cheeks and hair with the soft dust from the stars that winked down at her.

The water wove and dipped serenely below Hermione, spreading across the slowly brightening horizon, reminding her that she needed to get back to real life. Although it was with regret that she turned away from the balcony and through the beautiful room that had formed behind it, she knew that she wouldn't solve any of her problems by disappearing.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning with the same soothing calm flowing through her veins. She dressed, gathered her things, and exited the Gryffindor girls' dormitory in a sort of daze, ignoring, as usual, the looks that some of the others gave her (which were starting to abate, thankfully).

She had pushed through the portrait and was walking down the hall that led to the main set of stairs when she finally came to her senses, being vaguely aware of someone saying her name.

"Hermione!" She blinked, turned, and saw Harry next to her.

"Good morning, Harry," she said, and he frowned.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?" Her friend asked, his tone concerned.

"I… Yes, why?" She said.

"I've been calling your name for the past minute." He said bluntly, and she smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry. I guess I was just thinking."

He seemed to accept that answer, and continued. "How was detention last night? You never came to dinner." She blew out a soft exhale, and Harry chuckled, but his eyes belied the concern he held for her. "It was that bad?"

She grimaced. "I may have walked out."

Harry gaped. "What happened?"

Hermione said nothing, just held up her hand. She hadn't made Murtlap Essence last night, pushing it off until she could get more ingredients, hopefully soon. There was no way she would let these words remain on the back of her hand forever.

"Merlin." Was all Harry said, before enveloping her into a hug. She pressed her forehead against his chest, and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm going to kill her." He muttered as the two continued their walk to the Great Hall.

Hermione only smiled.

* * *

"Umbridge is up there today. I wonder why?" Harry mused as Hermione glanced up from where she'd been subtly eyeing Draco Malfoy's still red hand, upon which was written _I must not mix with Mudbloods_. Indeed, Professor Umbridge was seated at the high table next to an obviously annoyed McGonagall and a disgruntled Snape. She had never dined in the Great Hall before, even though they'd already been in school for over two months.

Hermione was about to say something when Umbridge stood from her seat and, after muttering a quick ' _Sonorous_ ', cleared her throat with a far too familiar,

"Hem, hem."

The entirety of the student population startled, turning their heads to the High Table.

"Good morning." She began, and many students had to catch themselves before they accidentally responded. "I would like to inform you that I have taken on the roll of High Inquisitor. No, this does not mean I will be forfeiting my job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, rather that I will be working two jobs at once. As High Inquisitor, I will observe every teacher at Hogwarts during a regularly scheduled class period. I also have the ability to enforce and establish Education Decrees, which you will find have been posted in the common room of every house as well as outside my classroom. If any student wishes to speak to me about issues with a teacher, an Educational Decree, or anything at all having to do with the condition of this school, you may find me in my office at the six o'clock hour."

A glance up at the High Table showed a weary Dumbledore, a surprised staff, and a smug Umbridge. A glance around the once-more-deafening hall showed a mixture of surprised, furious, and disdainful students.

"You think it's going to go through?" Fred, who sat to one side of Hermione, asked.

"If you take into account the fact that Umbridge has direct links to the Ministry, then yes. It probably will go through." Hermione said.

"Dumbledore doesn't look too happy about it," Parvati murmured.

"No," Harry agreed. "I think Umbridge is the only one who is."

* * *

Later, walking down to the dungeons for Potions, Harry turned to Hermione.

"You know we have to do something about this, right?" He asked. She turned to him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "About Umbridge." He added.

"Of course." She said, a smirk pulling on the edge of her lips. "Who do you take me for?"

Harry grinned. "You've already got something in mind, don't you?"

Hermione winked. She knew what had to be done.

* * *

"Was there something you wished to ask me, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape asked, turning his usual sneer towards her. "Or were you simply cleaning up your table very slowly because of the pleasure one derives from sweeping up the remnants of a rat spleen?"

"Actually, Professor, I was wondering if I could take some ingredients."

"For what, exactly?" He asked.

She held up her hand. "I need to make some Murtlap Essence, before this scars."

Snape's dark eyes softened, if only for a moment, but said nothing, only scanned her features, which she kept carefully detached. "Of course, Miss Granger. I'm sure you know where everything is in my supply cabinet, seeing as you've been taking from it since your second year."

Hermione gaped. "You-you knew?"

"Of course. Do you really think I am so low that I can not catch a thief in my own class?" The professor asked, and Hermione could have sworn she saw a smile ghost the edges of his thin lips.

"I, well-in that case, Professor, thank you." She said.

"Are you going to take ingredients, or not, Miss Granger? I do have other things to do, and I'd like to take care of them before Christmas. A few empathetic gestures does not mean I would like to carry on a long, meaningful conversation and braid hair." Snape said, and, just like that, he was back to his usual, snide self.

"Of course." Hermione said. She proceeded to gather the ingredients she needed, and left with a simple 'Thank you.'

* * *

It was nearing midnight, and Hermione was, as expected, the only one up. The common room smelled terrible-Murtlap tentacles had, she found, quite a strong scent. Strong enough, actually, to make her gag if she breathed through her nose, but she figured she'd rather sit in a smelly common room than let her hand scar.

Once she finished the concoction, Hermione poured it into a shallow bowl large enough to fit her hand. She cleaned up the table she'd been working at, murmured a quick _Scourgify_ (instantly clearing the room of the stench, a tip Professor Flitwick had been very happy to share), and snagged a book as she dropped onto a couch. She opened the book-something she'd picked up from the library on the founders of Hogwarts-and began to read, meanwhile placing her hand carefully into the bowl of Murtlap Essence.

The angry marks on her hand became slightly less red, and she sighed at the relief that washed through her senses, calming her quickly fraying nerves. As predicted, Umbridge had given her a month more of detention. Of course, she had no intention whatsoever of actually going to those detentions, but Umbridge didn't know that yet.

Hermione's thoughts floated from Umbridge to detention to Defense Against the Dark Arts, finally settling on Draco Malfoy. His hand had still been red this morning, which probably meant he either didn't have any Murtlap Essence, hadn't made it yet, didn't know it existed, or didn't know how to make it.

An idea brightened inside of her, and Hermione sprung up, letting her book fall to the floor. She quickly rinsed her hand, grabbed another, smaller bowl, a quill, and a piece of paper.

Once she had assembled everything, Hermione hesitated. She stood in front of the stairs to the boys' dormitory, weighing her options. Eventually, she crept up the stairs, cracked open the door, and darted quickly over to Harry's bed, where he slept soundly, snoring slightly. She let herself smile, before opening the trunk at the foot of his bed and pulling out the Invisibility Cloak before quietly slipping out of the dormitory.

She hated that she had to keep her plans from Harry, but she knew exactly what his reaction would be, and she could not let anyone slow her down or stop her-something she knew Harry (albeit with good intentions) would do.

She also hated that she had to take from him like a petty thief, but she would return it once she was done. She needed to be invisible, tonight.

So no one saw her, as she stole into the Slytherin boy's common room.

Hermione had a delivery to make.

* * *

The next morning, Draco awoke to find a curious assembly of objects sitting next to his bed on the nightstand; a small bowl of Murtlap Essence, which he quickly placed his throbbing hand in (only after sniffing it to make sure it was actually Murtlap Essence), and a folded note. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and unfolded the note curiously.

 _Does the offer still stand?_


End file.
